


What's Long And Hard And Full of ... Dethklok?

by Gearsmoke



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Intimidation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gearsmoke/pseuds/Gearsmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A PWP ficlet set after GoingDownKlok.  Yes, it's N/P, yes it's gratuitous.<br/>Canon-offshoot, separate from the 'Body Drug' altverse.<br/>Warnings: Swearing, homosexuality, sex, almost fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Long And Hard And Full of ... Dethklok?

Long and Hard and full of Dethklok.

"So what happened wit’ you an’ Abigail?" Pickles tone was insinuating, he’d heard some pretty interesting noises over the feed from the Dethsub’s recording studio. At first, he’d been furious, but then that anguished cry of defeat had ripped through the transmission, Nathan’s sheer volume shorting the mic out mid-howl. The drummer smirked, leaning back on the engineering console in that same studio. The same console, in fact, where Nathan had had his downfall only a couple hours earlier. "Ya look like a feckin’ mess, Nate."

The final week of their odyssey was guaranteed to be tense. Murderface was in the infirmary after jumping Toki again when they got back to the sub, Skwisgaar was trying to talk Toki out of rage-induced catatonia, and Abigail was planning to develop acute migraines that would keep her from seeing anyone for most of the voyage home.

"I don’t want to talk about it." Nathan eventually said. 

"So she rejected you, right? Ya blew it, huh? I told ya, I TOLDYA she was outta yer leeeague!" Pickles reveled in that scrap of schadenfreude; the barest bone of self-esteem that had been tossed his way.

Rising to the jibe, the singer growled, "NO, she DIDN’T! She was totally into me! We made out, I even…" His face went slack, he’d done that dark deed… the stuff of his worst nightmares. He’d faced his fears and come out with _nothing_! "I was going to, you know, seal the deal… and then she freaked out and ran off, okay? She’s obviously crazy."

Pickles snorted, not buying the excuse, "Ahbviously."

"Hey! Don’t say that… like that! Like it’s MY fault! I could have done it… you couldn’t even get CLOSE!" Nathan stabbed his finger through the air in Pickles’ direction.  
  
"I could have! I did! I almost kissed her! She was sittin’ reight dere an’ I made a move. But she said no, an’ I am a gentleman so I respected that. I respect a lady’s choice … to … naht do me." The last few words grumbled petulantly.

Nathan huffed, "Yeah, we’re not TOTAL assholes. We can listen when a lady says to stop. I did that, I was just so ready to go." He shut down the soundboard and put his face in his hands.

"Sounded like she was ready ta go too. So how’d ya fuck it up?"  
  
Giving the drummer the stinkeye, Nathan growled, "I didn’t do ANYTHING wrong! I’m telling you, she’s crazy! I had her right here, where you’re standing, and she kissed me, and then I … you know. … I …" Nathan twitched, "I went down."  
  
"Whoah!" The drummer’s eyes widened. So THAT’S what that was… That spoke of serious desperation. 

Pickles never really understood the singer’s strong aversion to the act, he was supposedly straight, right? Straight guys usually enjoyed doing that… He could excuse Toki, the naif, and Murderface, the closet case. Skwisgaar was a hypocrite who played along to make the others feel better, but nobody gets the reputation the blonde has without being a cunning linguist. As for the drummer himself – well, he didn’t LOVE doing it, but he knew how to make people happy. 

Nathan nodded, "I know! And she was liking it! And then just out of nowhere, she’s like ‘I gotta go!’ and she runs off… and leaves me with the worst fuckin’ blue balls in history. Do you have any idea what that’s LIKE?"  
  
"Yeh, I do. Are ya kiddin’ me?" The drummer almost laughed, they all knew how that felt… Well, except maybe Toki and Skwisgaar. He wondered about those two. "So deat’s why ya look like… yeah."  
  
"It’s not fair… I’m so frustrated!" The only things keeping Nathan from punching the walls were his sore wrists. "I don’t even blame Murderface for what he did. I’d fuck anything right now." There was a pause, the singer’s mind ticking over. He looked at Pickles; the drummer’s hair was still up in a ponytail, his face all ruddy from the heat in the sub. Sweaty, bare arms braced on the edge of the sound board, slender yet muscular...  
  
"Oh man, deat’s rough. … Ennything?" Pickles’ eyebrows went right up. The way Nathan was looking at him made the redhead suddenly nervous. "Heh, mebby dere’s a pork loin er somethin’ in th’ kitchen…"

"Ugh. You struck out too… with Abigail. You’ve been all twitchy lately, acting weird… Did it help to get behind your drums? Beat some of that out?" Those toned arms flailing, thighs pumping in triple bass kicks… Nathan could imagine Pickles getting off on an adrenaline high while working his kit. 

"Yeh…" Pickles swallowed. Drumming had been a release – though not enough, it had returned him to a more functional state. "I could sure use a beer, huh? How aboht you? Beer?"  
  
Nathan rose to his feet, picking up the disc with his recorded tracks on it; "We’re out." He returned the disc to its protective case. He took a moment to look his bandmate over… Pickles had fooled around with guys before, in his old band. Sensing a budding opportunity, Nathan locked the door.  
  
The idea of no beer successfully distracted Pickles from noticing what Nathan was up to, "Out!? We had enough beer for years! How ken we be OUT!?" The idea of being without, in the hot, dark sub, claustrophobic despite its massive size, made Pickles’ head spin. "Noo…no no no!" He swayed, stumbled and – 

Nathan caught him. Held him against the console, "We’re out… down here." By which he meant that particular level of the sub; there was, of course, plenty more in the storage hulls. "So we’re just going to have to deal." He pressed the smaller man back, hovering close enough to smell the drummer’s sweat, feel his heat. "I mean, I can deal… can you?"

Not struggling yet, Pickles took a deep breath. "Nate… what’re ya doin? Don’t feck wit’ me, c’mahn." He looked up, a mistake… Nathan’s eyes, his expression. The big guy looked crazed, and Pickles could feel a bulge against his jeans. "Dood, don’t, ya don’t wanna… Ngh!" And without warning Pickles was sitting on the soundboard. 

"Okeee… Seriously, Nate, lookit me!" He pushed at the bigger man, but was held fast. Squirming, tugging his arms in Nathan’s grip, Pickles could see the muscles in the singer’s arms and chest tensing. Wow. There was just no way he was going to be able to fight his way out of this. "Let me go! I don’t wanna git inta it with you!"

Those hands held firm, "I know you need it, too. Just… let me do this, I can help, we can both feel better."

"Nate!" Colour flooded Pickles’ cheeks; he was getting aroused despite his protests, his body reacting to Nathan’s heat, his smell, pheromones shooting through his brain like a drug. He licked his lips, mouth gone dry, wordlessly protesting with his eyes, and encouraging with his hips.

"Tell me to stop. Say ‘no’." The singer’s hands were gentle, even though his grip was iron-firm. He waited for a response, denial, anything. Nathan didn’t want to hear ‘no’, but if he did, he’d back off. Seconds passed, stretched out taut over heartbeats. The ‘no’ didn’t come. Nathan wasn’t surprised. He knew how the other man felt, how much his body was clamoring, begging, for something to make the need go away. He locked eyes with the drummer.

Pickles just nodded, struck dumb, afraid, but even more afraid of losing the moment. He raised his arms when Nathan pulled his shirt off, the fabric grazing over hardened nipples, his breathing fast and deep. He’d be lying to himself if he said he’d never thought about Nathan… never seen the younger man as attractive, but at the same time, he hadn’t even lingered on fantasies, there was no point… there was no way… except, apparently, this way.

Pants, next, shoes, the drummer’s body already responsive, erection springing free from his pants, no tighty-whities today. Nathan glanced down at it, and paused. A hard cock, not his, right there… bigger than he expected, or maybe the immediacy of it just made it look bigger, almost intimidating. But he had Pickles naked, pinned on the soundboard, he’d have to go for it. 

The drummer calmed his breathing, he could see the apprehensive look flit across Nathan’s face, that unsurety that was endearing of the big, brazen frontman, "What’re ya gonna do?" What WAS Nathan going to do with him? The big guy was, well, BIG, and Pickles feared for his safety, and his ass… They didn’t even have lube! "Heh," He swallowed. "I could, y’know… give ya a hummer."

Nathan’s erection twitched, but he shook his head, "Too dangerous."

Dangerous? What would Nathan consider safe, then? Pickles felt Nathan’s heavy breath on his chest, the tall man bowed against his bandmate’s shoulder as he unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his own hard male organ. A quick peek gave the redhead reason to shiver anxiously; Nate was far from small, and at full attention, it certainly did look a little dangerous. 

Maybe Pickles could divert what he worried the frontman was planning to do with that weapon, still figure out some way to make this end well for both of them. Experimentally, the drummer slid a hand up under the black shirt hiding newly hardened abs. "Y’look real good lately."  
  
Nathan rumbled, and turned to nuzzle the redhead’s cheek, almost affectionate until Pickles tried to engage him in a kiss. He almost went with it, but… The vocalist pulled away and pushed Pickles back, "No. Don’t do that…" He hadn’t brushed his teeth or anything since Abigail was there. 

"What’s wrahng? Y’gaht curlies in yer teeth?" Pickles flinched when Nathan raised his hand, but it wasn’t to cuff him. Nathan’s big paw slid down his chest and wrapped around the musician’s eager erection. "Hnneh!"

"Don’t be crude, dickhole. I’m not going to kiss you like you’re a chick… I want to get off, you want to get off… I want to fuck you." He paused, "I mean, I won’t be your first, right? You’ve… You’re into that."

The look on the drummer’s face was priceless. "Hey, hey, woah, dood! What makes ya think I go thet way!? Jest cos I tried a few things when I was a kid doesn’t make me a fuckin’ jizzcan!" He sat up, only to be held down again, "Yer naht fuckin’ me, Nate! You’ll kill me! We don’t even have cahndams or…"  
  
"I have. I have everything." That’s right, he was prepared to use them on the lady producer, but… Nathan’s pockets produced condoms, lube, and wipes. On discovering a box of Tic-Tacs, he ate a couple, no need to spend all night with pussy breath.

Pickles shook his head, "Thet’s really beside the point. I was jest… I can’t. Yer naht fittin’ that in me, okey? No." He pushed his hands against Nathan’s chest, and true to his word, the big singer stopped, shuffling back a few inches with his pants falling around his ankles and a rager that looked as pissed off and frustrated as its owner.

"Sorry. Fuck, sorry. I’ll… uh." Nathan stooped to pull his jeans back up, awkward and embarrassed.

Reaching out, the drummer pulled his friend close again, "Ya don’t have ta go, I ain’t saying we have ta stop." Curling his fingers in the younger man’s silken hair – how he envied that hair! – Pickles smiled and again tried to kiss Nathan. 

Nathan let him, his eyes closed and a narrative of distracting thoughts rolled across his mind: Facial hair, scratchy, weird… at least Pickles brushes his teeth… he’s a good kisser... Wait, no. Nathan pulled away again, too soon for either of them, and frowned. "This isn’t right, it’s not supposed to be nice like this. I was just going to bang you and get us both off. Nothing _gay_."

"Fuckin’ me ain’t _gay_?" Pickles used the same inflection, stifling a laugh. "What, cos it’s like prison sex? Just gonna use me ta git yer rahcks off? I’m yer friend, Nate. If we’re gonna do this, yer doin’ a friend. Look at me." Nathan’s eyes had slid away at being chastised, and Pickles waited until they returned. "I’m naht some groupie, I ain’t going away after this."

"I know that…" Nathan breathed in Pickles’ smell, ugh, why was he making this all complicated? It had been pretty simple in his own mind, but expressing it didn’t come easy. "I just want this to be … like we’re palling around… with our dicks... And uh…" He trailed off, Pickles had gotten ahold of Nathan’s erection and was rubbing it lightly.

"Shh… get th’ lube." 

Passing the small bottle, Nathan commented, "We’re not supposed to jack off."

"We’re naht jackin’ ahff." The drummer poured out the entire bottle, some on Nathan’s cock, some on his own, and the rest on his stomach, "Git up here." He urged Nathan with a heel to the rump. Not that the big guy needed much urging. 

With a larger body pressing down on him, Pickles could feel the buttons on the console pressing painfully into his back, and he squirmed around until he was comfortable, which Nathan took for enthusiasm, "Ngh… fuck, that works." He gripped the upper edge of the board and ground against Pickles’ slippery, almost-hairless stomach, the smaller man’s cock rubbing against his own, hot and hard and sensitive. The redhead moaned and arched upward against him, wrapping those toned drummer’s legs around his hips.

Surprisingly, to Nathan, this wasn’t bad at all, the wetness formed a mild vacuum where their skin connected, and he could feel himself getting there, slowly but surely. The contact was pleasant, too; gentle and sensual rather than the kind of clawing and screaming he’s used to when he sticks his pecker in someone. Rather their bodies slid and rocked together, slowly and steadily, toward a mutual release.

Pickles’ breath came shallowly and with the rhythm of their movement, Nathan’s weight compressing his lungs with each hump. That was all right, though, as long as they went slowly. He held onto thick handfuls of raven hair, not even pulling, but for something to do with his hands. He felt like he was floating, swimming; the console was warm under his back, hard and uncomfortable, but there was a coolness rippling up his spine; a blurry, pleasant buzz that settled in his brain, let him know the fuse was burning down. "Nnh, I’m gittin’ close. Li’l more." 

That’s all Nathan needed, just one last good stroke, the rub of Pickles’ glans up the underside of his, just one… "OH! Oh that’s… FUCK!" He snarled through his teeth, his body tensing as he hit his peak. He had to fight to keep from flattening the drummer into the soundboard, hips shivering and back rigid. Nathan groaned, hot fluid spread between their bellies, mixing into the lube. The body pinned beneath him only added to the effect by writhing, Pickles’ face went red and twisted into a grimace of slipping control. "Nnnghheeah!"

Panting, shivering, Nathan watched his bandmate reach orgasm. Huh, Pickles was getting off on this as much as he was. That hadn’t really occurred to Nathan, busy as he was with his own gratification. Oh, sure, he wanted Pickles to get there, too, but it was an abstract idea until just then. He hadn’t expected to be so affected by seeing the drummer lose it like that. He’d never gotten such a close look at the drummer’s O face; it was pretty silly-looking, but also weirdly cute and unnervingly intimate.

And then the drummer whined and shuddered, and his heat added to the mess held between their bodies - only kept there by the contact of skin on skin. As soon as Nathan pulled back, the slimy mess started drooling down Pickles’ sides toward the console. "Shit!"

"Wha? Oh!" Still buzzed-out, Pickles blinked at the problem. The semen-lube mix could certainly damage a soundboard. Before he could get up, though, Nathan was on him again with the drummer’s tank top, swiping the jizz up both sides and soaking the fabric. "Oh gahd, Nate! My shirt!" 

"It’ll wash out!" At least the evidence was gone now. Nathan handed Pickles the wadded-up, sticky shirt.

"Mneh…" Well, at least Nathan hadn’t used his pants, which he found and put back on before dropping himself into one of the swivel chairs. You know, he DID feel better, he couldn’t even stay angry about the shirt, the stupid gross sticky… he started laughing, getting himself back under control when he saw the singer looking at him oddly. "Heh, how’re ya feelin’?"

"Good… really good." He thought it over, pulling his own jeans up and sitting down in the other chair, "That was a good idea."

Was it his idea? Pickles shrugged, "I guess. We’ll be home in a week. We’ll have all the ladies we want, whenever we want ‘em, doin’ whatever we want."

"Yeah…" 

Finding a black hair wound around his fingers, Pickles pulled it free, "But, I guess we can pal around again if ya can’t wait." 

Nathan cocked his head, "Yeah? What if YOU can’t wait?"  
  
"Are ya gonna say no?"

"…No. I mean no, I wouldn’t… say no."

A triumphant little grin curled the drummer’s lips, "It’ll jest be us, bein’ pals, takin’ care of each other, no big deal." 

Nate nodded, Pickles understood him, "Exactly! Friends help each other!"

Understand, yes, though not necessarily agree with. Pickles chuckled, "Go take a shower, dood, ya stink… An’ I stink. I don’t wanna show up for dinner smellin’ like a used jahck strap." 

"Oh god, yeah. Food." Nathan realized how hungry he was; he’d hardly eaten in days! The last few weeks had become a blur of anger, horniness, and weightlifting. Suddenly he had an appetite again, and his stomach growled demandingly. "Good, I’ll… see you there, pal." 

Heh, ‘pal’. Standing and stretching, Pickles went to open the door. Finding it locked, he turned to give Nathan a look as he turned the latch and made his exit.

Nathan just grinned at him.

  



End file.
